Loathing

My scores ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had tanked.

And I mean tanked.

I pulled up my mock exam report card and just sat there, staring.

Two core subjects stamped with a 4. Math — the one I'd been sure would come back a 1 — sitting there as a 3. The shock of it sat in my chest like a stone.

I'm actually screwed.

If I walked into the CSAT with numbers like these, there was no way I was getting into the university I wanted.

And I knew why. My sister's harassment had taken a bigger bite out of me than I'd wanted to admit. Tonight. I had to talk to her tonight.

"So what. What do you want me to do about it."

"Huh...?"

"Maybe you're just lazy?? Why is this my fault? That's so fucking stupid."

She hurled a cup at me and barked at me to go get her some water. My nerves were already scraped raw; going against her felt almost physically impossible. The memory of her hands around my throat was still so vivid it sat in my body like a bruise that had never faded.

I made myself do it anyway. I brought her the water, set it down, and chose my words as carefully as I could.

"Could you just... ease up a little? Only until the CSAT is over. Please?"

"God, shut up. I can't even hear the TV."

She cranked the volume and iced me out completely. I let out a breath and went back to my room, pulled out a study guide, and tried to work. For once, whatever was on television actually held her. She didn't barge in. I thought maybe — just maybe — I'd get a real stretch of focus tonight.

Two hours, give or take.

Then my door slammed open.

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

She walked in naked, flung a towel into my face, and dropped onto my bed. For a while she just lay there looking at the ceiling. Then she spoke.

"Oppa... where are you trying to go?"

"What...?"

I listed the universities I was aiming for. A handful of names.

"Hmmm... I see."

She didn't say anything after that. She just wriggled deeper into the bed, pulled a pillow into her arms, and called for me again.

"Oppa... I'm sleepy. Let's go to sleep."

It was early for that. Maybe she'd had a long day. I didn't have much choice. I killed the lights, crossed to the bed, and lay down beside her.

She coiled around me like she wanted to fuse herself to my skin.

"Can't you just... stay with me? For good?"

"......"

I didn't answer. I just stroked her hair.

I don't know how long we stayed like that. Sleep was starting to pull my eyelids down when her arms suddenly locked tight around me.

"You were going to leave me behind... and run."

And just like that, she spiked.

"That's it, isn't it?? It is...! You're going to dump me and run, aren't you... You irresponsible piece of shit..."

"Where is this coming from..."

I pulled her in, trying to settle her down. I held her harder than I needed to, if I'm being honest — I had no idea what she might do, and pinning her like that felt like the only way to keep the situation from going sideways. Part of it was fear. I kept waiting for her hands to find my throat the way they had before.

"Hhk... you fucking bastard... I hate you so much... You fuck me and then you won't even take responsibility... limp-dick piece of shit... hh-!"

She kept cursing into my chest, burrowing her face against me to wipe her tears. Then her hand slid into my underwear, pulled my cock free, and started stroking it — rough, impatient pulls, up and down, until I was hard whether I wanted to be or not.

"...You won't even put it in. It's huge and you won't use it. If you're not going to, you should just cut the thing off..."

Wet, obscene little sounds filled the dark. Slap. Slap. Slap.

"See?! You're dripping, Oppa...!!!"

"W-wait—!"

She didn't stop. She squeezed down like she meant to wring me out and started pumping in earnest.

"Does it feel good? Getting hard from your little sister's hand...? You pervert... If you like it so much, why do you keep pushing me away, you fucking asshole..."

"Stop... nh— just stop for a second...!"

It felt too good. A little more of that and I was going to finish, and I knew it, so I tried to talk her down with everything I had.

"Am I that unattractive to you?? I'm going this far and you still won't... Why isn't this allowed? Or what — do you just hate me? Is that it??"

"Why would I hate you... We're brother and sister. We can't do this. When you get to university you'll have a boyfriend, and besides..."

"...For fuck's sake... can you shut up about the brother-and-sister thing?? Just ignore it and go out with me. If we keep our mouths shut, nobody ever has to know! Are you actually stupid? Why do you have to be so dense about this...!"

There was no getting through to her. The girl was sharp — genuinely sharp — and she still couldn't hear a word I was saying. If I gave in, if I let this become what she wanted it to be, we'd be happy for a while. She'd be ecstatic.

But the more time we spent tangled up in each other, the more inevitable it became that someone would notice. A tail that long always gets stepped on in the end. The thought of our parents finding out — or anyone who knew us — made my stomach turn. Just imagining it was enough.

I kept talking. I tried to make her hear it.

After a while, something in her seemed to settle. A little, at least.

She muttered it so quietly I almost missed it. But her hand had stopped, and she was holding me again, and a few minutes later she was asleep. I let out a breath I felt like I'd been holding for an hour, and I slept too.

Whatever I'd said to her that night, it seemed to take. From the next day on, she was... different. Genuinely different.

At school she barely called for me. When she did, it was to ask what I wanted for dinner, or to pull me somewhere quiet for a kiss that lingered a little too long ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— and then she'd let me go. At home she stayed out of the way when I cleaned, when I showered. She didn't sabotage either. She still made me go down on her before bed, but even that had cut back a lot.

With the space to actually study, the days went fast. Before I knew it, the night before the CSAT had arrived. A text came through with the address of my testing site.

That night, for reasons I didn't question, she never came into my room. She went to hers and stayed there.

She's leaving me alone so I can do well tomorrow. That's what this is, right?

Even a small mercy like that felt enormous. I caught myself thinking I'd buy her something nice at the market tomorrow — really stock up, make it a feast — and I headed for the bathroom to shower.

When I came back, my door was sitting slightly open.

Had I left it like that?

It struck me as odd for half a second. Then I let it go, sat down at my desk, ran through my notes one last time, and went to sleep.

CSAT morning.

I stood at the front door, pulled in a long breath, and slapped myself across both cheeks hard enough to sting. Wake up. Focus.

"Have a good day, Oppa~~!"

She saw me off in her pajamas, smiling from the doorway. I blinked at her. Didn't people usually say good luck on the test?

I gave her an awkward little wave and headed out. Something about the wording sat wrong in the back of my head, but I pushed it aside and started running time splits in my mind, mapping out how I'd pace each section, as I left for the school in the text.

Is this the right number...?

The sender on the message looked a little off. I told myself I was being paranoid, flagged a taxi, and went.

Forty minutes later I was there, with a comfortable fifteen minutes to spare before nine. Except...

Why was it so quiet?

There should have been underclassmen out front cheering. Vendors hawking rice cakes and yeot candy for luck. The usual circus. There was nothing.

The school was an elementary school. The gates were locked tight — closed for the exam, I assumed at first — but the street around it was genuinely empty. Not a soul.

There was a guard post nearby. I asked if this was a CSAT site today. The man looked at me like I'd asked him for directions to the moon. He hadn't heard a thing about it.

I called my homeroom teacher, voice already climbing, and told him I thought the text had gone to the wrong place. I asked him where I was actually supposed to be.

The opposite side of the city. Two and a half hours on public transit. Even if I caught a taxi right now, I was looking at an hour.

The world went white.

"Hah— hah...!"

What do I do. What the hell do I do?

I dragged air ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into my lungs, flagged a cab, and told the driver the real address.

I got there at 10:40. Of course I did. The gates were sealed. A teacher from the school stopped me at the entrance and told me the exam had already started — no one was being let in.

One subject gone. No. All of it. My head was so empty that even if they'd opened the door and sat me down, I would have bombed every section left.

I went home. I don't remember the trip, and I don't want to. I fell face-down on my bed, buried my face in the pillow, and bargained with whatever would listen.

Please let this be a dream. I'll wake up and everything will be back to nor—

"O-Oppa... wake up~"

...Morning?

No. The window was dark.

"Oppa... I'm hungry. Make me food."

Evening had come and gone without me. I put a simple dinner on the table and sat across from her, eating late. I couldn't taste any of it. Chew. Swallow. Repeat.

She was in a fantastic mood. She kept smiling to herself over her rice, this little private grin, and watching it made something ugly turn over in my stomach.

...No. She wouldn't have. Right...?

I cleaned up, went back to my room, sat down at my desk, and checked the date.

I rubbed my eyes and checked again.

It was still CSAT day.

Fuck. I wasn't supposed to swear. God. Fuck.

The door opened.

She walked up to the desk, looked down at me sitting there, and then she started to laugh. Not a giggle. Not a chuckle. She laughed like something in her had cracked all the way open.

"Hiii... ahh~ Oppa, your face. That's too funny~!"

She laughed until she ran out of air, wiped her eyes, and kept going, still breathless.

"I did send you pretty far... I guess it took longer than I thought?"

"What...?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice? That if you got into university, you'd leave this house?"

"......"

She glanced at her phone and talked right over the silence.

"You should have behaved when I was being nice to you. Did I really have to go this far? Don't you even dream of leaving me. You said it yourself, didn't you? That you were supposed to be unhappy. So, Oppa, what do you think we should do now~?"

She tilted her head, sweet as poison.

"Should I call Dad and tell him everything~???? ...Huh...? O-O...ppa..??"

It was you. Of course it was you.

You fucking bitch. You miserable, tear-you-apart-and-kill-you bitch. Everything I had done, everything I had put up with, and it was for this—

I cried in front of her for the first time in my life.

I didn't say a word. I just looked at her — this insane girl — with my face twisted up like I wanted to put her in the ground. If I stayed in that room one more second I was going to do something I couldn't take back.

I bit down on my lower lip to keep the rage from getting out. I bit too hard. The skin split. Blood welled up and ran, and all I could taste was iron.

"Ah— um. Ahem."

She cleared her throat once, awkwardly, and left.

I sat in the empty room, clapped a hand over my mouth, and broke.

And I understood it then. The reason I had kept turning her down no matter how hard she pushed, no matter how she tried to pull me under. Somewhere along the way, without ever putting it into words, I had started to hate her.

No. That wasn't right. I knew it for certain now.

I hated my sister. I fucking hated her. Hated her enough to want her dead.

I loathe that girl.